King of magistos

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{For those who made it this far—thanks.}

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Fang woke late.

The sun was already high, its light pouring into the cave in small spots.

He blinked lazily, his body heavy from the previous day's work. The stone beneath him had warmed from the heat still lingering in the air, and for a moment, he didn't move. Just listened.

No fire crackling. No footsteps. Just birds and wind.

He sat up slowly, rubbing the side of his face. Smoke was curled near the ashes of last night's fire, ears twitching in his sleep. One of the other rabbits slept in the shadows.

'Such cute little bastards...' He said as a smile spread on his face.

Fang stretched, winced at the tightness in his shoulders, and grabbed a half-eaten radish from the satchel near his bedroll. He bit into it on his way out of the cave.

"I should really get started on hunting today to make pillows and mattresses My back is killing me."

But when he exited the cave, what he found outside made him stop in his tracks.

About twenty meters from the cave entrance, the forge site was alive with movement. Gaia stood beside a rising platform of stone.

Three broad steps carved neatly into the cylindrical stone slab.

Her arms moved in second-guessing yet practiced gestures, guiding the earth like a sculptor commanding clay. Chunks of stone floated and shifted in the air at her command.

Isgram stood on the slab, shirt tied around his waist, sweat streaking his soot-covered chest. He barked orders as he worked, using controlled bursts of fire magic to weld heavy metal braces together—scrap from the battlefield, now reforged into something new. Each time he finished a weld, Gaia moved the next piece into place without missing a beat.

Between them, a clay structure began to take shape. Isgram had pre-wet the clay and left it in thick mounds at the edge of the stone slab. Now, Gaia pulled it upward, forming the body of the forge with smooth, steady layers. Her earth magic molded it like a potter's wheel—cylindrical, with a wide belly and a narrow chimney rising toward the open sky.

Fang stepped closer, watching quietly.

The whole setup was rough but promising. The platform was solid, the elevation smart—rainwater wouldn't flood it, and the stone itself would hold heat well once fired. The clay forge looked like something born from the earth, not built into it. Functional, raw, and sturdy.

They hadn't noticed him yet.

Gaia crouched, shaping a groove into the base of the forge while Isgram checked the alignment with a blackened tool he'd cobbled together from a bent sword hilt.

"Left," he said.

Gaia shifted the groove two fingers to the left.

"Good," he grunted.

Another jet of flame hissed from his palm as he fused a metal ring into place.

Fang crossed his arms and leaned against a tree, a lazy grin tugging at his mouth.

"So this is what happens when I sleep in?"

Isgram didn't look up. "We figured if you didn't wake up by noon, we'd just bury you and call it a training accident."

Gaia glanced over her shoulder, her hands still shaping clay. "You're late. Don't make it a habit."

Fang shrugged, strolling toward them. "Looks like I'd just get in the way."

"You would," Isgram said flatly, then added, "But we saved you a task anyway. That pile of charcoal and clay there? Mix it with water and start forming bricks. We'll need them for the outer walls."

Fang sighed, dropping his satchel. "Of course you did."

He knelt near the pile and grabbed a stick to stir the mixture. The clay was sticky and thick, the charcoal fine and dark as ink. He started kneading it together, letting the cold earth work its way under his nails.

As he worked, he watched the forge rise, layer by layer. The haven wasn't just an idea anymore. It was stone and clay and fire.

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Fang mixed the clay and charcoal together, his mind wandering as the damp, sticky earth clung to his hands. It was hard not to feel a growing sense of pride as he looked at the forge taking shape, the base firming up under Gaia's careful shaping.

But of course, Isgram didn't stop talking.

"Fang, you really should consider waking up earlier," Isgram called from above, lifting his hammer to adjust a metal plate. "I mean, I get that napping is a noble pursuit, but we've been at it for hours."

Fang shot him a look, half-amused, half-annoyed. "And here I thought the goal was to not burn yourself out on day one. But please, carry on with the genius plan to build this forge by yourself."

Gaia smirked at the banter, then glanced over at Fang. "You two are always like this?"

"Oh, it gets worse," Fang said with a grin, wiping some of the clay off his hands. "Isgram's got an entire library of ways to tell you you're doing things wrong without actually offering any solutions."

Isgram grinned down from the slab, clearly enjoying the jabs. "Hey, it's called constructive criticism."

Fang snorted. "It's called making sure I do all the grunt work while you and Gaia get to be the fancy architects and fire-benders."

Gaia rolled her eyes but laughed under her breath. "You're just mad you didn't wake up for the fun part."

"Fun part?" Fang raised an eyebrow, his voice full of mock disbelief. "Oh, I'm sure standing here and making bricks is wildly fun."

Isgram shot a flame across the stone, welding another joint into place. "Actually, it's pretty fun once you stop complaining about it."

"Right, and I bet I'm the one who's going to have to test if this thing actually works by being the first one to heat it up," Fang quipped.

Gaia, ever the observer, cast a glance at him. "Well, someone's got to make sure this whole setup doesn't go up in flames."

"I volunteer not to be that someone," Fang deadpanned.

Isgram chuckled from his perch, fanning the forge's fire with a quick burst of magic. "See, I told you you'd miss all the fun. Next time, you'd better set an alarm or something."

Fang snorted, continuing his work with the bricks. "Next time? I'm starting to think this whole place is a glorified camp, and you two are the weirdest camp counselors I've ever had."

Gaia raised her eyebrows, amused. "Do all your conversations start like this, or is this just your version of 'good morning'?"

Fang glanced over at her with a playful shrug. "Usually. If it doesn't, something's probably wrong."

Isgram jumped down from the platform, dusting his hands off with a smirk. "Don't worry, Gaia. The way Fang talks, you'll get used to it. It's like his form of affection."

Gaia shot him an amused glance. "I'm starting to wonder if that's supposed to make me feel better."

"Oh, it's meant to make you feel something," Fang grinned. "Whether it's confusion or actual affection is up to you."

Gaia rolled her eyes but laughed softly. "Well, I'll take it as affection, then. It's certainly better than silence."

Isgram grinned as he glaned at fang, "Fuck off will ya?" He said.

Which raised a smile on Fang's face in response.

As Fang worked on the bricks, he couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at how they'd come together—different skills, different elements, all mixing into something that might actually work.

By the time the sun started to dip low again, the forge was nearly complete. The clay structure was solid, its shape clean and smooth. The raised stone platform was perfect. All they needed now was a little more work to finish the outer walls, and they'd have a working forge.

Fang wiped his brow, stepping back to survey the work they'd done. "Well," he said, voice filled with quiet pride, "I think we're just about ready to burn this thing down... figuratively, of course."

Isgram grinned. "If we do it right, this thing should hold fire as long as we need it."

Gaia gave a small, satisfied nod, crossing her arms. "Looks like we have the foundation for our next big step."

Fang chuckled, stretching. "Yeah, next time, I'm taking the morning off. You two can handle the fun parts without me."

Fang stretched once more, glancing at the setting sun as he made his way back to the cave. The weight of the day's labor settled on his shoulders, but the satisfaction of progress kept his stride steady. Smoke bounced at his side, the little rabbit's shadowy form flickering in the dusk.

Just as he entered the cave and started to take off his shirt, a low rumble shook the ground beneath him. He froze, listening intently. It was faint at first, like distant thunder, but then the vibration grew stronger, the air around him thick with tension. His instincts kicked in.

"Gaia?" he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing.

He darted out of the cave, scanning the surroundings, his heart already picking up the pace. Then, he saw them—ten archers perched in the treetops, hidden in the fading light. The quiet rustling of leaves told him they were moving, shifting positions. Every few seconds, a flaming arrow would streak through the air, aimed at Isgram and Gaia, who dodged the first few arrows with agility, but isgram's hand was cut by one of the fleeting arrows.

Fang's blood ran cold.

"Ambush," he murmured to himself. "Not a moment's peace, huh?"

Without hesitation, Fang called out in a low, commanding voice. "Smoke, go."

The shadowy rabbit's ears flicked up in response, and with a barely audible puff of magic, Smoke darted toward the trees, its ethereal form vanishing into the soil. The other rabbits, now two, their shadows woven into the ground, slipped into the earth beside him. Their forms flickered and dissolved into the soil, blending with the shadows as they waited for their moment to strike.

Fang didn't waste time. He turned his gaze toward Gaia and Isgram just in time to see Gaia raise her hands. The earth around her surged upward, forming a thick, defensive shield of stone that arced above her and Isgram like a protective dome.

"Well, this is exciting," Fang muttered under his breath, then raised his voice louder. "Isgram! You good?"

Isgram barely spared a glance, his focus on the archers in the trees, his hands glowing with the readiness of fire magic. "We've been in worse. Just keep those rabbits of yours in check."

Fang smirked. "They've got it handled."

As arrows began to rain down again, Fang snapped his fingers. The two shadow rabbits surged from the earth, their forms rising silently from the soil like silent, deadly specters. Fang's connection to them was instant—he could feel their movements, their awareness of the danger.

"Ambush," he whispered to them. "Circle around, take them from below."

The rabbits melted back into the ground, vanishing once again, leaving no trace behind.

Gaia's shield absorbed the next volley of arrows with a resonating thud, but Fang's attention was locked on the trees. His rabbits were quick, silent as shadows themselves, creeping beneath the archers. He could almost hear their breath as they crawled along the earth, inching closer to their prey.

And then, just as an archer pulled back another arrow, a scream broke the silence. One of the archers, his expression one of disbelief, suddenly twisted as a shadowy rabbit erupted from the ground beneath him, sinking its ethereal tendrils into his legs.

The rest of the archers reacted instantly, drawing their bows in unison. But before they could release another volley, Fang's rabbits surged from the earth once more, as tendrils of death magic followed their movements like an extension of Fang's will.

One of the archers fell to the ground, his bow useless in his hands as the other rabbit sliced at his throat. The others were too slow to react as the rabbits began to incapacitate them one by one, knocking them from their perches and dragging them to the ground.

"Focus on the others," Fang instructed, his eyes never leaving the scene. "Don't let them regroup."

Gaia and Isgram, standing firm behind the shield, exchanged a look. Gaia's eyes flicked toward Fang as he controlled the rabbits from the shadows, their movements precise and deadly. "Nice trick," she called, a grin tugging at her lips. "Are you sure these are pets and not weapons?"

Once 3 archers were down, A fire bomb was thrown on the trees and set fire to several trees which severed the line of sight of the rabbits.

The rest threw a smoke bomb and disappeared into the forest.

The rabbits were already gearing to give chase, but Fang sent a mana command:

"Enough."

The smoke from the attackers' bombs lingered like a bitter aftertaste in the air. The archers were gone, but the scent of blood and scorched leaves remained, clinging to the grove like a warning.

Smoke and the others slinked back to his side, silent and splattered with residue. Not a scratch on them. Just efficient. Precise. Killers wrapped in the skins of prey.

Fang's eyes narrowed as he looked at the fallen. Two archers remained lifeless on the ground. One pierced by tendrils, the other with his throat slit. The third fell from one of the branches and had his entire body dismembered.

"Good," Fang murmured.

He crouched by the nearest corpse, placing a palm over its chest. His fingers sank slightly into the blood-damp fabric. The moment his skin touched the flesh, a ripple of death mana surged through him.

"Fang, what are you doing?" Asked Isgram concerned as he had a guess of what fang is aiming to do.

Fang felt it.

The soul hadn't fully departed yet, it was trapped in the corpse.

He channeled his mana into the body, and the soul resisted for a breath.

But then, a crack in the archer's chest was opened wide, and from It, his heart ruptured.

From his torn heart, a mana stone floated upwards.

The stone was yellow, unlike the rabbit stones, and it was only slightly smaller than Fang's fist.

Fang's fingers closed around the yellow mana stone. It pulsed once, dimly, like the fading heartbeat of the soul it used to house. He turned it over in his hand, studying the shape—jagged, almost crystalline, but smoother than raw ore. Still warm. Still full of potential.

Isgram took a cautious step forward. "You just took a man's soul, Fang." He said with a hardened experession.

'He never talked about doing it to people. Have I misjudged him?' 

Fang didn't answer right away. His gaze was still locked on the stone. "No," he finally said, voice low. "He was already dead. I just caught what was left before it slipped away."

"That's not better," Isgram snapped, his tone uneasy. "You know what this looks like."

"I know exactly what it looks like," Fang replied coolly, slipping the mana stone into a leather pouch on his belt.

"And I also know trained archers attacked us. Not untrained mercenaries. Soldiers. Probably sent by the guild, which means the message we tried to send did not work. Smoke bombs, ambushing, and a larger squad this time?"

Isgram stroked his beard, and he nodded in agreement.

"This is the work of professionals. This is by far the most dangerous attack I have ever faced. I mean, what if they send mages next time? And now they know of Gaia allying with us too..."

Gaia was silent, her expression unreadable as she looked at the corpse and then at Fang. "What will you do with that soul?"

"Store it. Study it," Fang replied. "Human soulstones are not something I should use just blindly. I think we can use it for greater causes. Besides, I won't get to research it anywhere else."

"Because it's a violation," Isgram muttered, rubbing his arm. "Even in war, there are lines."

"Tell that to the bastards who tried to kill us," Fang snapped, standing. "They wanted us dead. This?" He held up the pouch. "This is just... resources. No worse than scavenging armor from a battlefield. I don't give a rat's ass if it was once a human an elf or a dwarf. For me, this is the spoils of war. I use death to fight, you have fire. Do not judge me."

Gaia's gaze lingered on the pouch, but she said nothing more. Instead, she turned to inspect the remaining bodies. "They came coordinated. Whoever sent them didn't expect us to survive."

Fang crouched again, checking the second and third archers' bodies. No usable soul here. The mana was not strong enough for a mana stone to form.

"Cowards," Isgram muttered. "They retreated before we even pushed back properly."

"Which means they'll return," Fang said, standing. "Next time, they'll come in greater numbers. Or with mages. We need to finish the forge. Fast. Then we start building defenses."

Gaia nodded slowly. "I'll reinforce the trees. We can make the grove harder to navigate, force enemies into kill zones."

"I'll set traps," Isgram added. "We've got metal scraps left. Enough for blades, spikes, maybe a few trigger-wards."

Fang glanced down at Smoke and the two other rabbits, now calmly licking the blood off their shadowy paws. "And I'll give them new orders."

He looked at his companions. The fire mage and the demoness—his allies in this twisted new world.

"We build fast, we build strong," Fang said. "And if they come again…" He tapped the pouch with the yellow stone. "We send a message they won't forget."

Isgram saw and lost all reason to fight. This is part of Fang's powers, and he indeed could not judge him.

"Fang, just one rule."

Gaia and Fang both turned to look at Isgram, curious as they never talked about rules of any sort.

"This power of yours is different from ours. Your magic Is based on the essence of death and eternal rest. For you to manipulate it, we must have rules."

Fang was cautious in showing his anger, but he listened in silence. 

"All I want is that you promise. PROMISE. To not use this on our allies, whoever they will be."

Fang exhaled, and his anger fleeted his heart as fast as it entered.

He smiled and let out a chuckle, "You scared me there. This is the minimum, but you are right to talk about it. I hereby swear to never use my powers on any of our allies, as long as they remain allied or neutral to us."

Isgram let out a sigh and shook Fang's hand.

Gaia cracked her knuckles, a grim smile spreading. "We should get going, boys... This war won't wait for us."

Isgram grumbled, "So, still gonna need to wake you up tomorrow?"

Fang smirked. "After today? I might start waking up earlier."

He turned back toward the cave, voice cold and certain.

"Let them come. We'll make them fertilizer for our fucking garden."